


Narrow

by hyperempathie



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Bulimia, Eating Disorders, F/M, Short, vic is sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 11:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15290655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperempathie/pseuds/hyperempathie
Summary: There's a lot she never says, until he asks her. There's some things he wishes he could fix about her.





	Narrow

He knows, she can tell. He’s looking at her all piteous, like she’s tortured and undeserving of her troubles. Her face still feels a bit hot, knees a bit weak and eyes a bit red. When he walks up to her, she’s trying her best to keep a poker face.

“Vic,” Nathan says, his arm on her bicep holding her in place, his face leaning closer to her and she turns away in shame. He looks down like he doesn’t want to intimidate her, like he’s sharing the shame she’s feeling.

“Tell me,” he says. Fuck. It’s not like it’s a secret, she’s slept at his house, they've eaten together, she just spent 20 minutes in the bathroom and he knows it. Still, it feels like confessing a crime, like she’s guilty of something that, if no one knows, she can pretend never happened, “Did you just throw up?”

“I,” her voice is higher than usual, embarrassed, tiny, “I, yeah, I,” one of her hands reaches up to wipe at her mouth nervously, “I puke what I eat, okay? I, I,” her mind starts going fast, and as soon as she starts stumbling, Nathan’s grip on her tightens. She’s wide-eyed, lightheaded, frightened.

“I know,” and she feels him pull her closer, “I got you,” until they’re standing flush against one another. He lets his hand go down her arm until it finds hers, and they stand like that for what feels like decades. Her breathing slows down eventually, and when she notices he’s not saying anything, it feels a bit better. Like maybe they can just stay like this. But she’s still lightheaded, her knees feel weak and tired.

“I need to lie down,” she says, resting her head on his chest, looking away at the rest of the room. So he separates them, looks down at her with concern and guides her to the bed of her dorm. They’ve been there before. Made out, fucked, sobbed, slept, eaten. Everything.  It’s safe there, warm and timeless, like a cocoon made just for her to crawl inside. So when she does, her bones ache delightedly, like her body can finally relax. Nathan lies next to her, and she can smell him everywhere.

“I didn’t wanna hide it,” her voice is quiet, she hopes maybe no one will hear, “At first. It didn’t seem important,” Nathan’s hand reaches up to stroke her hair in that way that calms them both, “Not at the beginning.”

“You’re not fat.”

“Not to you.”

“Not to anyone.”

They lie there for a while, thinking, and the air around them seems to be moving in tandem with their thoughts. She can’t think of anything smart to say. It’s not about being fat, she thinks, and she wonders if Nathan knows it. He probably does. He looks at himself in the mirror in the same way, she sees how cruel he is with himself.  The words seem to just come out of her.

“I look down, or I think about it,” she begins, her eyebrows coming close to form a frown,  “And all I can see is skin. And there’s just so much of it,” her voice is so defeated it nearly makes Nathan wince, “There’s just so much of me.”

One of his arms drapes around her, pulls her even closer if that’s possible, and he thinks maybe if he engulfs her inside himself it will smooth over the harsh edges they both have, turn them into something tumbled and clean. He searches for ease, wants to tear it out of himself and give it to her.

“There’s not enough of you.”


End file.
